


Second Chance

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Language, POV First Person, gratuitous cat references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assuming, that is, he can actually reach a decision in the first place, does Ethan have it in him to come up with a way to make things up to Will?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Narrated by Ethan. Self Beta'd.
> 
> While certainly not a Valentine's Day fic per se, I still very deliberately chose to post it today because... well... it's probably soppy enough to count as a love story...
> 
> The thing about black cats? Believe it or not, but it's apparently true. (Google it, and a Daily Mail story should come up...)

============  
Second Chance  
by TalithaX  
============

 

The sound of a car driving in to the yard and coming to a stop directly in front of what counts as the main entrance point to the warehouse-slash-safe house we've been based at for the past twelve days rousing me from my half-comatose state, I open my eyes and, not really wanting to rush in to anything if I don't need to, contemplate whether I need to make a move or not. Logic, not that I've ever been all that big a fan of it, tells me that I don't have to drag my ass off the sofa, that there's nothing to worry about. The mission, save the ever-tedious report writing, is over, we successfully retrieved the formula for the 'latest and greatest' attempt at an airborne bioterrorism attack and neutralised the organisation behind it, and although my old – carefully trained in to me – friend, paranoia, whispers in my ear that I can never be too careful and shouldn't be so blasé, I can't help but think that if the car contained a threat of any kind that Will, who was last seen heading outside with a box of what was left of last night's pizza, surely would have done something to get my attention by now.

Failing that, he's finally come to his senses, realises he doesn't actually give a shit anymore, and is just leaving me to my own devices.

And, what's more, it's not even as though I'd be able to find it myself to blame him, either.

The mission is complete, we all survived both relatively unscathed and ready to fight another day, and maybe, just maybe, something is going to have to give. With no sort of life-or-death, the world's – yet again – in peril type of threat hanging over our heads to distract us, we might actually have to, God forbid, face up to the elephant in the room.

The elephant in the room which, okay, fine, is entirely of my own making and which, I'm somewhat ashamed to say, I don't even know a way around. I can, metaphorically, of course, see it, and I can freely acknowledge that I put it there, but that's pretty much it. I don't, despite all the time I've wasted on thinking about it, know what to actually... do... about it. That is, I've managed to grasp the options that are open to me – continue to ignore it, draw a line in the sand and don't look back, or... close the chapter once and for all and simply move forward – but that, again, is pretty much it. Each option comes with its own list of pros and cons, and I just can't do it. I can't decide which one to choose so, solely because it's as close to a default position as I'm ever likely to get, I've just, in terms of actually doing anything about it as opposed to simply fixating on it in my head, been ignoring it. 

Sighing, I'm about to drag my tired and aching body off the sofa and make my way over to the dirty looking window in order to – finally – check the car out for myself when, to my great relief, I'm saved from having to move by the all too familiar voices of Jane and Benji as they walk, chatting, in to the warehouse. Mentally cursing myself for not having immediately put the sound of the car down to their return, I settle back on to the sofa and, all the time hoping they take themselves up the other end of the open-plan living space we've been conducting the mission from and just leave me in peace, close my eyes. Although I'm not going to admit it, so as much to myself, let alone to anyone else, any time soon, the sad fact of life is that I'm just not as young as I used to be and my body's taken far greater offence at bouncing off the car I had to throw myself at this afternoon than I would have expected it to, and, to put it bluntly, I feel like shit. Nothing's broken, and until all the bruises come out all I've got to show for it is a grazed cheek and the remnants of a headache that the painkillers don't quite seem able to reach, but, well, let's just say I've certainly felt better and leave it at that. 

“Look. Don't get me wrong or anything. I know... why... he's doing it, but all I'm saying is that he... shouldn't... be doing it,” Benji states in a vaguely exasperated sounding tone as, seemingly oblivious to my presence, he and Jane walk by the back of the sofa. “It... It's only ever going to end one way, you know, and... It's just not good. For either of them. It's not good for either of them.”

“Seeing as the subject's so clearly dear to your heart, why are you telling me this when you should be out there telling it to Will?” Jane retorts with what may well be a huff of annoyance. “Will, he...”

“He's a sucker...”

“Benji!”

“What? No! Shit! You can stop looking at me like that as I... I didn't mean it in a derogatory way at all. He... He just doesn't know what's best for him, yeah? Does that sound better?”

“I think what you're trying to say is that he's kind-hearted,” Jane replies as they both come to a stop at the table closest to the sofa, “and, while I'm at it, that he feels things far too keenly for his own good. He thinks he's doing the right thing and, like you, I get it, I really do, but, again, just like you, I can see it only ever ending one way. And, you're right, it's not good.”

“Maybe Ethan...”

“Ethan!” Jane interrupts both loudly and, dare I say it, derisively. “Just... Don't, Benji. Don't even get me started on Mr Head Buried In The Sand.”

“But... Ethan, he... he's Will's friend, too,” Benji replies cautiously as, going by the scrape of the chair legs across the concrete, he takes a seat at the table, “and perhaps he could talk some sense in to him.”

“If Ethan knew how to talk to Will they wouldn't be in this mess,” Jane mutters with a snort. “Seriously, Benji, while I mightn't be any more across the specifics of all of this than you are, I still have no qualms at laying the blame squarely at Ethan's feet. It might take two to tango and all that, but at some point even he's got to pull his head out of his ass long enough to realise that, as it's just not in him, Will's not going to be the one to speak first and that he'll have to be the one to do it.”

“Uh... Jane... I hope you realise I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“What do you mean you've got no idea what I'm talking about? You're the one that started this particular topic of conversation.”

“Yeah, but... The cat. I was talking about that damn cat Will's taken it upon himself to befriend. Not... Uh... Whatever it is you thought I was talking about!”

“Oh... It appears that our wires were crossed, then.”

“So... Uh... What were... you... talking about?”

“Ethan. I was talking about how, not content with just fucking him, he's moved on to fucking Will over,” Jane responds in a flat, blunt tone, “and how Will, who it appears doesn't know how to speak up for himself, is just taking it.”

“Oh... I...”

“What? You can't seriously be sitting there telling me that you didn't know.”

“I can, you know. Ethan and Will? Really? I...”

“Come on, Benji! You're a spy, for Christ's sake. The four of us all but live together and... you didn't know?”

“I didn't know,” Benji hesitantly confirms. “I... Ethan, though, he... He was married.”

“So?”

“So... He...” Trailing off, Benji sighs heavily. “You're right. It doesn't mean a thing. I just... I just didn't know and... uh... Are you sure we should even be having this conversation? I mean, I know Will's outside with his furry friend, but where's Ethan? For all we know he could be listening...”

“Oh, I'm sure he is,” Jane interrupts in a smug, possibly even amused tone. “In fact, although you clearly missed it, he's camped out, pretending to be asleep, over there on the sofa.”

“You mean...”

“I'm fairly certain he's heard everything.” Pausing, Jane laughs before calling out, “I'm right, aren't I, Ethan?”

Accepting that Jane's clearly on to me and that if I don't reply her already fairly low opinion of me will take yet another turn for the worse, I bite back a sigh, open my eyes, and wearily raise my arm so that it can been seen over the back of the sofa. “Pray continue,” I mutter as I slowly sit up and place my feet on the floor. “I mean, don't let me stop you.”

“Ethan, I... Oh God! If I'd known you were there I never would have... I didn't mean... It... I...” Stopping himself mid-babble, Benji jumps to his feet and, from the sound of it, all but runs off. “I... I've just got to go to the bathroom!”

“Pleased with yourself?” I comment drily as, her expression more impassive than it is satisfied, Jane walks around the sofa and takes a seat next to me. “Whether it was your intention or not, you may well have just broken Benji's brain.”

“Just call it collateral damage,” Jane mutters as, settling back against the sofa and resting her feet on the edge of the coffee-table, she shoots me a sour look. “Look. I know flinging yourself at that car caused more damage than you're wanting to let on, but... I'm not Will, and I'm not Benji, and now that the mission is over I can't just keep biting my tongue. I'm not afraid, or even wary of you, Ethan, and because... Benji clearly didn't even know, and Will would never say it himself even if it was what he happened to be thinking, it's apparently up to me to hit you with the fact you're behaving like an asshole.”

“So, tell me how you really feel, why don't you,” I reply with a half-hearted shrug. “Jane... I don't suppose there's any point in me telling you that it's none of your...”

“No point whatsoever,” she states, both cutting me off and flashing me an unbothered grin. “Like I just said, someone's got to tell you that you're an asshole and, as it happens, that person just has to be me. I know, for what it's worth, that it's none of my business, and, believe it or not, I want to be having this conversation with you probably as much as you want to be having it with me, but...” Pausing, she looks me directly in the eye and shrugs. “Something has got to give, and you know it. Just... Look at you. You're injured and Will, instead of being in here hovering around you and making sure that you're comfortable, is hiding outside with a cat of all things because he doesn't know what you want from him, or even... if... you want him at all, and, Ethan, it's just not right. Especially not for Will. He's not like you, or even me, for that matter, as he won't speak up for himself, not for personal matters, anyway, and the way you're behaving just has to be both confusing and hurting him.”

“Maybe... the way I'm behaving is for the best,” I murmur, somewhat defiantly meeting Jane's solemn gaze. “Maybe it's the best for everyone. Have you thought of that?”

“I'm not here to give you answers, Ethan, I'm here to give you the kick up the ass you need to do something about this mess before it gets even bigger,” she replies, giving me a disappointed look before lowering her head and staring down at her knees. “I don't know what Will did to upset the status quo and your, surprisingly delicate, I might add, equilibrium, and, while this might come as a shock to you, nor do I actually want to know, but... Come on! You know as well as I do that something is just going to have to give. You've been barking orders at Will and haven't said a word to him that's not mission related for weeks now, and, in turn, he's been, not that I can blame him, going out of his way to avoid your company, and...”

“Something's got to give,” I finish with a sigh. “If it helps any, I know. I do, but...”

“For once you don't know what to do about something,” Jane offers, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as, to my surprise, she rests her hand down lightly on my thigh.

I nod. “Something like that.”

“I'm not saying it makes thing any easier, but... How about looking at it this way,” she murmurs. “If you've gotten Will out of your system then... Fine. These things happen and all that. Just tell him that it's over and that way you can both close that chapter of your lives and move on. If, however, you don't feel as though you've gotten him out of your system at all, then... Ask yourself both why that is, and what it is you can do about it. Ethan, Will, he... He deserves answers and you know it.”

“Of course I know it,” I whisper as, more grateful to Jane for, in a sense, interfering than I want her to know, I lean against her and gently bump my elbow into her side. “I know I've gone about it all wrong, and I know Will deserves better, but, I... I just don't know what to do, that's all.”

“Then I suggest you put some effort in to coming up with an answer,” Jane responds matter-of-factly. “I know, I know,” she continues, giving my cheek a quick kiss before getting to her feet and smiling down at me, “it's easy for me to say and all that, but... Break it down. Out of your system, or... still very much in there and it's that, more than anything, that's doing your head in...”

“I...” Oddly enough, she's right. It is easy for her to say. Easy, and almost alarmingly perceptive.

“Cheer up, Ethan,” Jane smiles as, her mood clearly having improved, she ruffles my hair and laughs. “Will mightn't know how to speak up for himself, but what he is is forgiving. He's also very understanding and, I'm sure, just wants you to talk to him.” Pausing, she glances across the warehouse and rolls her eyes. “Now, if you'll excuse me I'd better go and make sure Benji hasn't slit his wrists out of embarrassment.”

“If he has, by all means just add it to my ever growing list of fuck-ups,” I mutter, giving Jane a wry look as she starts to walk around the sofa. “Uh... Jane... Thank you. I may be no closer to knowing what to do, but what I do know is that I've got to get on with it and, while I may not like it, please know that you can... uh... speak up whenever you feel like it.”

“Deliver a well meaning, not to mention much needed, kick up the ass, you mean?”

“That too.” Dredging up a wan smile, I watch Jane walk off before lying back down on the sofa and closing my eyes. Not being the entirely self-absorbed prick that she's currently got me down as being, I know, deep down, that everything Jane has just said to me is true. One hundred percent, unmistakeable fact, even. I've been... No. Make that, I'm... being... unfair, if not downright horrible, to Will. I've shut him out without a word of explanation which, to someone like Will who likes to know the answers to just about everything and whose middle name, according to Benji, should be Logic, is nothing short of cruel. I haven't talked to him, or given him any indication of just why it is I've... discarded... him, and I know, despite my current inability to do a single fucking thing about it, that I'm not being fair.

It's not, after all, as though it's even Will's fault.

Yes, he did something both innocently and inadvertently to set things – or, alternatively, me – off, but...

It wasn't intentional.

Hell, it wasn't... anything.

To a normal, sane person, it wasn't even something worthy of passing comment on, let alone making a massive mountain out of a tiny, insignificant molehill.

He didn't ask for my hand in marriage, or inquire as to whether I'd like to consider either donating a kidney to him or putting him in my will. Nor did he announce that he thought the time had come for us to look at moving in together. He didn't even cautiously bring up the subject of monogamy or, without warning, declare that he loved me.

No.

All he did was go to sleep. Or, depending on how you choose to look at it, all he did to upset my, as Jane so succinctly put it, delicate equilibrium was... stay.

Instead of climbing off the bed and heading back to his own room, he had the... nerve... to roll over and go to sleep.

In my bed.

The day having been both long and hard, our lovemaking had been slower and more drawn out than our usual, hurried and possibly even desperate romps and, seeing as we were both exhausted before we'd even started, once it was over – and we were basking in the afterglow – we simply flopped down on the mattress, closed our eyes, and slid quickly off to sleep. Too tired to even know whose room we were in, I think I was asleep within seconds and probably would never have thought anything of it except for the fact that when I woke up the following morning, Will was still asleep next to me.

That's all.

Still naked, and with his bruised back facing me, he was asleep in my bed. He wasn't... draped over me, or even encroaching on my personal space, but he was... there.

Where he shouldn't have been.

The unspoken rules of our – equally as never discussed – 'arrangement' was that it was just sex. Mutually agreeable, always pleasurable, but just sex. Nothing more. Not... 'exclusive'. No hugging, kissing, casual touching, or ever thinking that it was anything more than what it actually was. We... fucked... because it was easy, and convenient, and it... worked. And, when it was over, we always went, even if it was just across the corridor to another room, our separate ways.

It's just how it was.

Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies.

Taken for granted.

Whatever.

It worked.

Until...

… It didn't.

I woke up to find Will – where he had no right to be – in my bed, and, that was just it, everything came to a very abrupt stop. I looked at him and, to my surprise, my instinctive desire was to roll closer, hug him to me, and go straight back to sleep.

I wanted to curl around him and feel his body pressed against mine, not because I was horny and wanted to go for another round, but because he was there and... I was... happy... about it. I was happy to wake up next to Will, and I wanted to both hug him and kiss the back of his neck, and...

Instead of doing either of these things I bounded out of bed, pulled on the first clothes I came to, and went for a run.

And, in a way, I've been running ever since.

Running from the mass of confusion in my head.

Running from Will.

Running from something that I simply don't want to own up to being so much as a possibility. 

I ran because, simply put, it was the easiest thing to do. It didn't require any effort, or any thought, and it allowed me to – slap the blinkers on – get the hell out of there before I made a mistake, threw caution to the winds, and... gave in.

Gave in, as in...

… Opened myself up the possibilities.

More than just sex... More emotionally attached than I'd ever wasted the time of day on contemplating...

Wanting...

… More.

More from Will... More time together... More of an actual...

… Relationship.

I ran, because I wanted to – give in – hug Will to me and, startled by this realisation, I knew that I couldn't, that I... shouldn't... start down a path that, going on my own history here, would only ever be doomed to failure. I could... fuck... Will, and I could fuck... with... him, but I couldn't, I could never consider things progressing any further. For both of our sake's. My own because I'm too fucking gutless to put in the effort, and Will's because, well, I honestly have no idea how he'd take it.

Will, he...

He's different to anyone I've met before, basically. 

Don't get me wrong. This isn't, not by any stretch of the imagination, a criticism. He's not some sort of circus freak that requires either pointing at or avoiding, and nor is he even... overtly... different. On paper, we'd even come across as scarily, if not blandly, similar. Male, Caucasian, late thirties / early forties, average height and weight, physically fit, employed in the role of field agent by the Impossible Mission Force, above average IQ, fluent in multiple languages. Only that, really, would be where our similarities end. Despite having perfected some pretty damn fine acting abilities from my long career as a spy, so long as you share the same security clearance as I do, what you see with me is more or less what you get. I may not go so far as voicing it or explaining why, but if I'm pissed about something you've done then, hey, you know it. I don't bite my tongue, in other words, or have two very distinct rules about acting one way when it comes to issues pertaining to a mission and issues that pertain to me personally. Again, don't get me wrong. I'm not one for sitting down and having heart-to-hearts or, as the current mess so magnificently proves, going out of my way to share my feelings, but, if the air needs clearing then I'll – generally – clear it.

Will, on the hand however, he either won't, or... can't... speak up in respect to matters that effect him personally. If it's something relating to a mission then he's far from backward in coming forward and doesn't even think anything of arguing his – quite frequently correct – point against my directions. We've even had a couple of no holds barred arguments over certain disagreements we've had that have caused Benji – because, using his own unique slant on our superiority over him, he doesn't like to listen to 'mom and dad fighting' – to slap his hands over his ears before just up and leaving the room. Will's a brilliant agent who just happens to be far better at honing in on the specifics of the bigger picture than I'll ever be and when he speaks up and voices his dissent I always listen to him. What's more, I usually, even if it does first take a lot of shouting, end up coming around to his way of thinking too.

If something is on Will's mind and it relates to a mission, then he's dogged in his determination to let us all know just what it is he's thinking.

If it's something personal though? Forget it. From what I know of him, he'd rather keep it all to himself and even let it alter the course of his life before he so much as spared a single, solitary thought towards perhaps speaking up and sharing his concerns with someone. He just seems to... shut down and... take it. Take what happened in Croatia for example. He took what he thought to be death of my then wife so personally that he just retreated in to himself and turned his back on field work. Ignoring the – games that were in play – bigger picture, it wasn't actually his fault at all and should have just been one of those things he simply took in his stride and quickly moved on from. Yet, he didn't. He blamed himself and, solely, I suspect, because he felt he owed the Secretary for giving him a second chance, moved in to the seemingly safer world of the Analyst's Section in favour of being out in the field and potentially being responsible for the fate of another.

To be perfectly blunt, if not even insensitive here, I don't actually comprehend his reaction at all. People, after all, die, and while our job might be to do what we can to protect them, at the end of the day we're only human and can only do our best. Julia, to Will, was a complete stranger. Hell, at the time so was I. He didn't know either of us and, again, to my way of thinking, had no reason to take her death so very much to heart. She wasn't his friend, how I reacted to the loss of my then wife shouldn't have made any difference to him and, honestly, I don't actually get it at all. In the course of my career I've lost friends, lovers, and even those I've been sent in to protect. I'm not saying their deaths haven't effected me. Some I've just taken in my stride, some I've been driven by revenge to bring their killer to justice, and some I've even mourned. It's just the nature of what we do. Death and loss come part and parcel with the job we've chosen to make our own.

Will, according to the clear cut and precise way I'm prone to viewing things, shouldn't have reacted the way that he did. He should have brushed off her death, perhaps mentally berated himself for possibly having missed something, and then he should have just sucked it up.

Only, he didn't.

He blamed himself and allowed it, something that in the grand scheme of things was essentially a non event – to change his entire life.

Will, he...

… Feels things.

He feels... things... that he then keeps to himself in preference to feeling as though he's only burdening someone else with his problems.

Take our... mutually agreeable, albeit never voiced... 'arrangement' for example. What he thinks of it is actually anyone's guess. Early on in the piece I got it into my head that the only reason he might have been going along with it was because he still had it in his fool head that he had to make things up to me somehow and that if it was his body I wanted then, without ever allowing himself to form an opinion regarding it himself, I could have it. If I'd been keeping stats though I'd say that we'd have to be about fifty-fifty in terms of initiating our encounters though, and that, even when I'd been the one making the first move, he never hesitated to go – enthusiastically – along with it. The sex was always good, too. Fantastic, even. Will, for all his self-doubt and inability to speak his mind, positively comes alive during sex and I have no hesitation in saying he'd have to be one of the most sensual and naturally sexy men that I've ever met. He's just... hot. Hot for it and, again with being blunt here, an absolutely magnificent fuck. And, gratifyingly, he's always given as good as he's got.

So, you know, I can only assume that he's been okay with it. He's never said anything to the contrary or made me think he hasn't been into it, and... Things, they've been okay. For around twelve months now they've been... okay. We've worked together, formed a tentative friendship, and fucked. As far as I was concerned it was close to a perfect mix. I may even have thought that I had it all. No-strings-attached sex on tap that wasn't hampered by so much as a hint of emotion.

Proving, I suspect, that I really am some sort of self-absorbed hero – Captain Asshole, anyone? – I've even spent some time convincing myself that it really wasn't anything more than sex either. Sure, I liked Will enough and certainly didn't have any issues with having him around, but there was no... hint... of love. When he was captured a couple of months back now I didn't over react and simply treated his rescue the same as I would anyone's. The same goes for when he was hospitalised with pneumonia. I hovered, alongside Jane and Benji, around his bed as he slowly recovered not because I was particularly worried or anything like that, but because it was the right, socially acceptable thing to do. I cared, in that I wanted him back on his feet again and not feeling so wretched, of course I did, but that was all there was to it. 

Right?

I...

I take...

No. 

Make that, I... took... Will for granted. 

I took his friendship, quick wit and freely given access to his body for granted, and now, ever since I woke up that morning to find him asleep in bed with me, I've been floundering in a sea of confusion.

A sea of confusion that there's no denying is entirely of my own making. 

Perhaps Will could have broken what may well be a habit of a lifetime and spoken up himself, but so could have I. I could have taken his track record of keeping things of a personal nature to himself and I could have – manned up – made the first move.

But I didn't.

I took the shock and moment of absolutely fucking blinding clarity I felt at finding him still in my bed and both shut down and shut Will out.

And here we are.

Hardly talking, Will can barely look me in the eye let alone force himself to stay in the same room as me for any longer than he has to, and, without ever having said a word to him, I'm at a complete fucking loss as to what to do. Jane having honed in on the crux of the matter far better than I've been able to, I suppose it really does boil down to whether I've got Will out of my system or not. Yeah, the sex was good and all that, but there's plenty more available fish in the sea and, at the risk of sounding as though I'm blowing my own trumpet here, it's not as though I've ever had any difficulties in that department and don't need to stay in his good books simply to get laid.

Common sense dictates that I... want him to be out of my system. It was fun while it lasted, but it was never as though it was actually going anywhere, right? My track record with relationships is dodgy at best, and Will deserves better anyway He deserves someone who, for his own good, will make him talk and who'll, even more importantly, actually both listen to him and work with him. He needs someone who'll be kind to him and who won't, at the first sign of a stray emotion coming out of nowhere and biting him on the ass, simply push him away.

Logic.

Logic tells me that I need to be over Will and that, in order to write the final paragraph on just whatever it was we shared, I need to explain things to him.

… I've had a great time, and you really are a fabulous fuck, but it's time to move on. Oh, and, yeah yeah, it's not you, its me.

Only...

A Jane inspired epiphany suddenly hitting me, I open my eyes and, with a muffled groan, struggle into a sitting position.

He's not out of my system.

Let's face it, would I be wasting so much time thinking about him if he was – just a convenient fuck – genuinely out of my system?

Of course I wouldn’t.

If I didn't, regardless of how deeply hidden and denied it may have been, have any feelings for Will I would have just shoved him awake that morning and kicked him out of bed. I wouldn't have... taken my desire to make the most of the unexpected bonus of his presence by hugging him to me and going back to sleep... and simply banished it to the back of my mind before disappearing.

The way Will's mind works confuses me, and there's always the chance he's never actually wanted anything more than sex from me, but I now know that I owe it, if not to myself because I'm not sure that I deserve it, then to him to finally lay my cards on the table.

I want him.

I do.

I want Will because I've only been making myself miserable by keeping him at a distance, and because he's gotten under my skin in a way that, hopefully better late than never, I've only just realised. He's not just a fuck, and, as I'm fairly confident he's even more damaged than I am, he may be a hell of a lot of hard work, but if he can bring himself to forgive me then I know – now – that I'm up for the challenge and, even if things do only end up going more spectacularly to shit then they already have, that the effort of trying will still have been more than worth it. 

Stretching, I glance around for some sort of peace offering to offer to Will and, when nothing takes my fancy, am about to force myself to face him empty-handed when, it apparently being the evening for it, I'm struck by another epiphany. Pleased with my – random – idea, I immediately reach for a scrap of paper and a pen and, before I have time to fall prey to doubt, quickly jot down a list of every possible required object that I can think off. When I'm done, I gingerly lever myself up from the sofa and, with my list clutched tightly in my hand, slowly make my way over to where Benji is sitting in front of his computer at the table closest to the back wall. 

Noticing me heading his way, he shoots me a worried look before dropping his gaze and staring down at his fingers as they rest on the keyboard. “Uh... Ethan. About earlier, I...”

“Forget it,” I mutter, cutting him off with both a small shrug and a quick smile. “While I can't remember what was said, I probably deserved it anyway, so... Seriously. Don't think any more of it.” Reaching the table, I place my list down next to Benji and increase the wattage of my smile. “I do, however, have a favour to ask of you...”

“A favour? Of course. Just name it and I'll do it for you,” Benji replies as, looking relieved, he picks up the scrap of paper and peers down at it. “Uh...” Shaking his head, he looks up from the list and gazes at me with open curiosity. “This... This is a shopping list?”

I nod and reach in to my pocket for my wallet. “It is,” I confirm. “It's a shopping list that I was really hoping you'd be able to go out and fill for me.”

“Really?” Benji shakes his head again and goes back to staring at the list. “I mean, are you sure? He hasn't said anything...”

“Who hasn't said anything about... what?” Jane interjects as, drying her hands on her jeans, she walks out of the bathroom and comes to a stop behind Benji. 

“Will, he...”

“No. He hasn't,” I state, cutting Benji off as I look at Jane and shrug. “And nor does he have to. I... Look. Maybe it will end up being nothing more than a waste of money, but... I'd like to try my luck and give it to him as a surprise anyway.” 

“Surprise? What?” Rolling her eyes in obvious frustration at not knowing what's going on, Jane snatches the list out of Benji's hand and quickly reads over it. “For what it's worth,” she announces, giving me a somewhat knowing look, “I like it and think it's definitely worth a try.”

“I didn't say I didn't like it, more that I'm not sure...” Trailing off, Benji shrugs and stands up. “Whatever. You're right. I think it's worth a try, too.”

“So you don't mind going out and seeing if you can find a store that sells it all?” I query, opening up my wallet and pulling out a handful of notes. “I'd go myself, only...”

“Only you've got to start mending bridges,” Jane finishes.

“Mending... Uh... Never mind.” Smiling, Benji takes the list back from Jane and places it in his pocket before waving his hand in a dismissive gesture at the money. “It's okay, Ethan. As I really do think it's a good idea, I've got this.”

“Actually, it's got to come from Ethan,” Jane declares in a flat tone that's at odds with the relieved looking smile tugging on her lips as she reaches past Benji and plucks the money out of my hand.

“But... What does it matter? We're the ones going to get...”

“Its got to come from Ethan,” Jane repeats, silencing Benji with a 'and that's the end of it' look as she folds the cash in half and places it in the back pocket of her jeans. “If Will ever asks, which I doubt he will, but still, he's got to know that it was all down to Ethan.”

“But...”

“The fact we were the ones to actually get the pieces is irrelevant as... the idea was all Ethan's, and he's the one who has to pay for it.”

“Uh... Okay.” Although he seems far from convinced at Jane's logic, Benji nods to himself and, his expression suddenly brightening, beams. “I take it you're coming with me?” he murmurs hopefully as, with a nod, Jane picks a set of car keys up from the table and dangles them from her finger. “And... That you're driving...”

“Damn right,” Jane replies as she links her elbow around Benji's and begins to pull him towards the side door. “What's more, I even know where we can go to get it all too. So, come on. I think they've got extended opening hours but, not wanting to miss them by a couple of minutes or whatever, we should be on our way.”

“In that case, lead the way,” Benji responds, giving me a small wave as they walk past. “Now... You're really sure about...”

“He's as sure as he's going to get,” Jane interrupts. “Aren't you, Ethan...”

“I'm positively brimming over with confidence,” I mutter with an expansive shrug. “Can't you see it?”

“Well, it's a start,” Jane replies, glancing over her shoulder and flashing me a kindly, reassuring smile. “I'm not saying it'll solve everything, but, take heart, Ethan, I still think it's a pretty good start.”

“A start for...” Trailing off, Benji gives a long suffering sigh and shakes his head. “Never mind. Come on, Jane, let's go shopping.”

There being nothing left to be said for the time being, Jane simply nods and, side by side, they make their way out through the door and disappear. Alone in the oddly homely warehouse that's been our base for close to a fortnight now, I weigh up the limited options open to me and, sadly, find them all lacking in one way or another. While I quite like the idea of simply returning to the sofa and waiting for Jane and Benji to return with – my clutching at straws peace offering – the items on my shopping list, I know that if I do I'll only go back to going over and over and over things in my head and, well, as that hasn't really achieved a lot so far, there's... just no point. Nothing positive, anyway. Then there's the other, far more... onerous... option. I could, as it's got to happen some time, go outside and face Will. I can't say the idea thrills me as I know the encounter stands every chance of being the very embodiment of awkward, but...

It has to be done.

I have to talk to Will, and I...

… Have to hope for the best.

Perhaps I have no right, and perhaps I'd be wise to let sleeping dogs lie, but I've got to at least try. I made this mess we're now in and, regardless of where it all ends up, it's up to me to do what I can to fix it.

So...

Going outside and facing Will it just has to be.

Mentally taking the equivalent of a deep breath, I head over to the door that will lead me out into the fenced in yard at the the back of the warehouse and, before I have time to talk myself out of it, wrench it open. Although night hasn't totally fallen and it's not yet fully dark, my eyes still have to adjust to the change in light and it takes me a couple of moments to spot Will as he sits, feeding scraps of pizza to the small black cat at his feet, on a stack of pallets against the warehouse wall. He looks, and I can tell this clearly even from both my position still just inside the doorway and in the dim light, tired and while I can't say this comes as any great surprise to me, what it does do is increase my sense of unease. I want, somehow, to get it through to Will that contrary to the way I've been carrying on, he does actually mean something – quite a lot, actually – to me, but if he's tired he mightn't be up to listening to me babble at him and...

… All I'm doing is making excuses when I should just be on the move.

Sighing softly, I step outside and, as the sound of the door banging loudly shut rings across the still night air, cause the cat to both jerk its head up and stare at me through wide, frightened eyes. It then, despite the calming hand Will extends towards it, bolts for the sanctuary of the rusted wreck of a nearby forklift and disappears under it. Needless to say I take the cat's reaction to my arrival as yet another black mark against my name and, as Will, his expression as unreadable as I've ever seen it, gazes at me, give an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry,” I state, walking closer to where Will's sitting and, seeing as I'm still not sure about the welcome – or otherwise – I'm going to get, coming to a stop a few metres away from him. “You've got to believe me that scaring the cat away was never my intention at all.”

“No?” Will murmurs in a neutral tone as, not seeming very interested in looking at me, he glances towards the forklift and frowns.

“Maybe if I sit quietly it'll come back out,” I offer, “or... Uh... If you'd prefer I can just turn around and go back inside. It's your call.”

“I don't care what you do, Ethan,” he retorts, still frowning at the forklift. “Stay. Go. Whatever. As you'll do whatever you want anyway, it's not as though my opinion even has to come in to it.”

“I...” Brilliant. This already shows all the signs of going badly and I've only just got here. “If you don't mind then I... I think I'll stay,” I reply, shifting closer to the pallets and, as Will slowly turns his head to gaze at me impassively, making to sit down. The pallets being lower than the sofa though, my body has other ideas about being lowered gracefully down on to them and I can't help but grimace at all the various aches and pains coming from my battered muscles as I lower myself on to them.

“You're hurt,” Will mutters as, once again frowning, he looks me up at down.

“I'm fine,” I reply somewhat automatically as, with another grimace of pain, I tentatively stretch my legs out in front of me.

“You're hurt,” he repeats, “but... Whatever. As it's not as though you'd tell me about it anyway, just... What is it that you're wanting from me, Ethan, huh? I'm assuming there has to be some sort of pressing reason for you to be suddenly volunteering to be in my company...”

Not liking how this seems to be going one iota, I decide to chance tack slightly in the hope of getting Will on to a subject that might improve his mood a little and gesture at the forklift. “The cat... Do you know if its a boy or a girl?”

Shrugging his acceptance at my abrupt change in topic, Will returns his gaze to the forklift as the cat, almost as though it knows we're talking about it, hesitantly pokes its head around a back tyre and peers at us. “Boy,” he replies with both a sigh and a scowl. “What's more, he's been desexed which means he used to be someone's pet.”

“Oh...”

“Someone's pet, that is, until they decided they'd had enough of the responsibility and just dumped him,” Will mutters sourly. “I just... It just pisses me off, you know. Because they'd had enough, they just washed their hands of him, and, you may not believe this, but I read...” Trailing off, Will glances at me through narrowed eyes and snorts. “Oh... And if you're sitting there thinking I'm seeing a correlation between myself and the cat, just... Don't. Unlike the cat I did, I... do... have a choice, and... and it's not like that at all, so...”

“I...” Suspecting, most likely wisely, that there's just about nothing I could say here that would be appreciated, I fall silent and simply wait for him to go on. 

“Do you want to know what I read?” Will states flatly as, shooting me a warning look, he picks up where he left off. “I read that shelters are experiencing an influx of black cats being dumped because, get this, they don't look good in selfies! Just... Fuck! Can you believe it? People, especially petty, pathetic, selfish people like that, really piss me off. Hell, they disgust me. I mean, so fucking what if your cat doesn't look good in a Goddamn selfie! It's an animal, not a fucking prop!”

“I...” Dear God. Just how on earth am I supposed to reply, huh? If I agree with him, which, for what it's worth, I do, he'll probably just think I'm being patronising, and if I either say nothing or simply give a non-committal grunt, he'll most likely reach the very quick conclusion that I'm an even bigger uncaring asshole than he originally thought. “Uh... That... That's...”

“Appalling,” Will finishes as, very much to my surprise, he gives me an oddly sheepish look. “What it is... is appalling, but... Uh... Sorry. While I may not know just why it is you've deigned to grace me with your presence, I'm nonetheless fairly certain it wasn't to be... ranted... at about the plight of abandoned black cats the world over. So... Yes. I apologise.” Sighing, he turns his head and gazes, perhaps at nothing, directly in front of him. “My mother never met an animal she didn't like, or, and I think this was common knowledge for at least a twenty mile radius around our house, that she could say no to,” he murmurs. “Needless to say it's because of this that I grew up in a house that was always full of animals. My father, and I think I may even be being kind to him by putting it this way, was fairly indifferent to their charms, but because he loved my mother he tolerated her menagerie and always, even if he could think of better things he could be doing with his time, did what he could to help. Believe it or not, there was time when we even had a Shetland pony living in our back yard for a couple of months. Oh, hey... Put your hand out.”

“What do you mean... put my hand out?” I query, a little taken aback by Will's... peculiar... order. Not only did it come entirely out of left field – from anecdote, to random direction without even drawing breath – but what it also just happens to be is incredibly strange. I mean, what possible reason could he have for wanting me to stick my hand out? “Sorry... But you're going to have to be a little clearer.”

“The cat's come back over to check you out,” he replies, glancing down at the ground near my feet, “and, if you can at all help it, I'd prefer it if you didn't scare him off again.”

“Oh...” Nodding, I – do as I'm told – lean forward and slowly extend my hand towards the cat as, all the time keeping a wary eye on me, he creeps slowly towards us. “Given how relatively tame and trusting he is,” I add, stretching my fingers out to the cat as he gives a funny little chirrup of greeting and starts to rub against them, “I think you have to be right in that he was once someone's pet.”

“I know I'm right,” Will mutters, still staring down at the cat as, having accepted me as a friend, he bumps his head into my hand for a few more seconds before starting to both purr and smooch around my legs. “See? He'd make a great pet, and... Damn it, Ethan! It pisses me off! I... I take after my mother so much in that respect that I honestly can't stand it.” Pausing, he shrugs and tilts his head back to look up at the sky. “I was walking home from school one day when, as I passed the school bully's house, I saw that he was swinging a tiny kitten around his head like it was a toy or something. Now... It wasn't without good reason that this kid was the school bully. Not only was he mean, but he was also quite huge... tall, fat, the whole nine yards... for his age, whereas I was the polar opposite and, height wise, would have been lucky if I'd come up to his chest. Not, however, that our size differences even came in to it as, incensed by what he was doing to the poor kitten, I... dropped my school bag on to the pavement, ran up to him, and... kicked him so hard in the nuts... that, in his haste to grab himself, the kitten ended up going flying through the air... Somehow, and to this day I still don't know how exactly, I managed to catch the kitten before it hit the ground and, knowing that I had to get out of there and fast, I had it stuffed in my bag and was on my way down the street even before his mother had come to the door to see what all the crying and swearing was about...”

“Like mother like son,” I murmur as, having had enough petting for the time beginning, the cat settles down on the ground between our legs. I could be wrong, but I get the feeling Will, in his own way, could possibly even be testing me here. Testing to see that I'm actually listening, and testing to see if I can... engage... in something that, ultimately, has absolutely nothing to do with... IMF, or what's going on between us.

And, you know what? I not only get it, but I'm also enjoying it. I'm enjoying listening to Will speak about his childhood, and I'm also... encouraged... by it. He's talking to me, hasn't told me to fuck off and maybe, just maybe, things might stand a chance of working out after all.

“Very much,” Will replies. “In fact, she wasn't even surprised when I arrived home and pulled a kitten out from my bag. Nor did she back down when the bully's mother marched around and demanded that we give it back and... just like that... I found myself the proud owner of my very first kitten. With great originality I named her Lucky and she slept at the foot of my bed every night, even while I was away at college, until she died at the ripe old age of eighteen. The bully, of course, singled me for some special attention for a few months, but I never regretted my actions as going home and being able to hug Lucky every day made it all okay.”

“While, okay, it mightn't have been the most original name ever, it definitely sounds as though she really was lucky,” I respond, shifting, oh, all of an inch closer to Will as, to my great relief, I suddenly remember a story from my own childhood that I can share with him by way of reply. “Granted, it's a different kind of rescue, but when I was nine I actually played the role of... uh... cat saviour, too.”

“You... did?” Sitting up straighter, Will turns to face me, his shocked expression one of undeniable interest.

“I did,” I confirm, deciding to gloss over his obvious surprise. “I was walking back from the river after having been fishing when I heard the faint sound of meowing coming from a neighbouring property and, always having been nothing if not curious, I immediately hopped over the fence to check it out.”

“And...?”

“And I found a tabby cat with its back leg caught in a small trap.”

“Shit! What did you do?”

“Well, I panicked for a couple of seconds, then I tried to convince myself that the kindest thing to do would be to just put it out of its misery...”

“But...”

“There's no need to look so mortified as I couldn't do it. I couldn't, despite the fact the farm was already half overrun with cats and God knows the last thing we needed was another one, kill it and, after a bit more dithering, I simply picked up both the cat and the trap and took off for home.”

“Where you were greeted with open arms, I take it?”

“My father nearly blew a fuse, but my grandfather, after extracting a promise from me that caring for the cat was entirely my responsibility, agreed to both release it from the trap and amputate its leg, and, before you ask, it ended up managing very well on only three legs and went on to live for another ten years.”

“That... That's actually really rather great.”

“But wait, it gets even better.”

“It does?”

“Mmm... The cat was the greatest ratter you can imagine and, from the moment it gained its confidence on three legs and left my makeshift infirmary in the shed to the day it died, it made sure, and I can only assume this was by way of saying thank you for having been rescued, there was a dead rat waiting on the back door mat every single morning and even my father felt compelled to begrudgingly give it a pat every now and then.”

“You know, that really is great story,” Will murmurs as he gives me an odd, unreadable look. “One that, and I have to be honest here, I never expected to come out of you.”

Sighing, although I know that if I was in Will's shoes I'd probably doubt – as, let's face it, professional spy goes all but hand in hand with possessing a consummate acting ability as well – the veracity of my tale too, I gaze down at my knees and shrug. The story, not that I've thought about it in years, is actually true and now that it's been brought back to mind I can remember tending to the cat's wounds as though it were yesterday. The cat being half wild, it didn't appreciate my haphazard nursing skills and by the time it was well enough to start taking its first tentative steps I was covered in scratches and hardly knew why I was even bothering to put so much effort into keeping it alive. Never having been one to give up without a fight though, I persevered and I can remember actually feeling proud of myself for having been able to give the cat its life back. 

“I wasn't always such a complete asshole,” I state quietly, “and the story I just told you, it... I give you my word that it's true. Despite having grown up with even more animals than I suspect made their way through your home, I still did what I could to save one single cat.”

“I'm sorry,” Will replies as he shifts a little closer and lightly place his hand down on my shoulder. “If it sounded as though I was implying that I didn't believe you then I apologise. What I really meant, what I... clearly failed to get across... was that I never expected to hear you talk to me like that and that, to be honest with you, I enjoyed listening to your story.” Pausing, he sighs softly before adding, “And I've never really thought of you as an asshole. Not a complete one, anyway.”

Emboldened by the weight of Will's hand on my shoulder, I flash him a lopsided grin and gently bump my knee against his. “Just some of the time, huh?”

“Everyone has it in them to be an asshole at least some of the time,” he retorts, returning my grin with a brief one of his own. 

“And I've been...”

“Don't,” Will interrupts as he both pulls his hand back and shifts a couple of inches away. “Please... Just don't... Not now. I know... things... have to be said, but I was kind of hoping that we could just let the tales of our youthful cat rescuing antics... linger... a little while longer...”

Nodding my acceptance – even though, uncomfortable as it may be, I'd rather just get things over and done with – at Will's apparent desire for silence, I lean back, rest my hands flat on the pallet behind me, and gaze up at the night sky. There being few stars to be seen through the combination of the city's street lights and always-present layer of pollution, I try not to retreat to yet more memories of my childhood and how brilliant the stars always seemed over the farm at night and simply close my eyes. While it would be a blatant lie to say that I was confident of still somehow finding the right words to guarantee both Will's forgiveness and willingness to give things another go, I'm not... ready to wave the white flag and retreat either. We've talked, perhaps not about anything of particular consequence, but, still, it has to be viewed as something of a positive all in itself, and, most importantly of all, Will's still here. He hasn't stalked off, or given any signs – as, really, would be quite within his right – of just wanting to dismiss me, and, hey...

So far, so good.

Not wanting to either over think things or to make the mistake of being the first one to break the silence, I simply keep my eyes shut and effectively hand over control to Will. He'll speak up when he feels ready, and until then I can just wait. It's a nice enough night to be sitting outside, even if things don't go as I'm hoping they will I'm still pleased that I found it in myself to try and, yeah, what will be will be.

Minutes tick slowly by as, for the want of a better way to put it, I just go with the flow.

“Ethan...”

My eyes flying open at the sound of Will's voice softly breaking what up until now had been quite a comfortable silence, I sit up straighter and, suddenly feeling far less calm and in control than I did only a moment ago, slowly turn to face him.

“What do you want from me?” he asks plainly, his gaze catching mine for a split second before he drops his head and looks away. “Is it just sex? If that's the case then that... that's fine. I... I just need to...”

“Is it though?” I interrupt, making no attempt to hide my – dismay – surprise at just how Will's chosen to word his opening statement as, knowing that I have to be careful here, I decide to make the most of the moment by honing straight in on the absolute crux of the matter. “Is it... really... fine if it's only about the sex?”

“If it has to be,” Will replies, directing his response somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. “I... Think what you will about me, but I... It's not that I'm easy, or... lazy, or anything like that, and, okay, fine, nor is it as though I've never wasted my time on perhaps wishing for something more, but...” Trailing off, he rubs his hands along his thighs and gives me a sad look. “I liked it, you know... It... It was better than nothing and I thought, by not rocking the boat or daring to speak up, that it worked. We had something that worked, and... now we don't. Now we avoid each other, and don't talk, and I hate it. So... Yes. If it means we can go back to at least speaking to one another then, yes, I... I'm fine with it just being about sex. I just need to know so that I don't make the same mistake... uh... whatever it was... again.”

“You...” Sighing, I give a rueful shake of my head and place my hand over Will's. “It wasn't you that made the mistake, it was me. In fact, if it helps, you didn't make a mistake at all.”

“Could have fooled me,” Will retorts in a tone of voice devoid of all emotion as, clearly not ready for being touched yet, he jerks his hand out from under mine and shifts a few more inches away. “One moment everything was... what I'd come to accept as normal, and the next you were going out of your way to avoid me. So, come on, clearly I did... something...”

“You...” Here, God help us all, goes nothing. “You stayed,” I whisper, dropping my gaze to the cat in preference to seeing Will's expression, as, oblivious to the human turmoil going on above his head, he sleeps peacefully on the ground between us.

“I... What? I... stayed?” he queries with obvious disbelief. “I'm sorry, Ethan, but... What the fuck? I thought I must have fucked something up or done something to really piss you off, and now you're saying that I... I stayed? What's that supposed to mean? I stayed where? With the team? With...”

“You stayed the night,” I murmur in a voice barely above that of a whisper. “That's all. You fell asleep and... stayed the night...”

“Oh...”

“That last night in London. You didn't... get up and leave like I expected you would and, although I fell asleep as well, you were still there in the morning...”

“Oh...”

“I... I freaked out over it.”

“No shit,” Will mutters as, no doubt not quite believing what it is he's hearing, he sits back and shoots me a dubious look. “You... shut me out because I made the apparently heinous mistake of... falling asleep in your bed? That... That just takes the cake, it really does. I mean, I'm good enough to fuck, but not to wake up next to? Just... Forgive me, Oh Great One...”

“It's me, I'm the one who isn't good enough...” Throwing caution to the winds, I place my hand on Will's shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. “Look. I'm sorry. I went about it wrong then, and I'm still going about it wrong now. Waking up to find you there... shocked me, it really did. What shocked me more though was how much I... I wanted to just roll over, hug you, and go back to sleep...”

“Oh...” His expression changing to one of confusion, Will shakes his head and murmurs, “I wouldn't have minded, you know... I... While I can't say I even have any recollection of falling asleep in your bed, I wouldn't have minded if you'd... uh... just curled around me and gone back to sleep...”

“It... I know, God knows I know, it sounds pathetic, and that by making something out of nothing I only made an even bigger mess, but it... scared me,” I confess, giving Will a rueful look. “I suddenly found myself wanting something I hadn't even allowed myself to consider, and I... Well, I lost it. Instead of talking to you or... even being honest with myself, I shut down, and... and just retreated. And... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you and for not being... man... enough to talk to you.”

“Well...” With a cautiously hopeful smile, Will reaches out his hand and places it on my knee. “We're talking now.”

“Well, we're certainly trying to...” The rest of my reply being drowned out by an ear piercing whistle coming from the warehouse, I turn to look over my shoulder and find, somewhat to my surprise as I hadn't even heard the sound of the car returning, Jane both standing by the back door and gazing over at us.

“Unless you two can think of a better suggestion,” she calls out, quickly giving me the thumbs up sign, “Benji and I have decided to go and get Chinese for dinner, so... Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Chinese okay with you?” I murmur, glancing at Will as I make a mental note to take Jane aside at a later time in order to thank her for so clearly having thought of everything. Not content with purchasing the items on my list for me, she's now come up with a way to allow me to give my... surprise... to Will in private by taking Benji back out to pick up take-away, and I really am very impressed by both her thoroughness and her thoughtfulness.

“I'm not...” Stopping himself from continuing, Will nods and flashes a practised smile over his shoulder at Jane. “Chinese would be great,” he states loudly. “Would you like me to give you some...”

“We're good,” Jane replies, cutting him off as she turns around and walks back into the warehouse. “See you when we get back.”

Standing up, I wait until I hear the car doors slam before extending my hand towards Will in the hope that he'll take it. “And on that note, I think the time has come for us to go in inside,” I declare cryptically as, giving no sign of wanting to take it, Will scowls at my hand. “Come on. Let's...”

“I thought we were going to talk,” Will replies, looking down at the cat as, most likely woken by Jane's whistle, it stands up and slowly stretches. “Ethan... Please. We need to...”

“We can finish talking inside.” Dropping my hand, I take a step back and gesture towards the warehouse. “Come on, Will. I give you my word that we'll pick up where we left off once we're inside. Oh...” Grinning, I start to walk off. “And if you think he'll be able to cope with being indoors, bring Charlie...”

“Charlie?” Will echoes as he stands up and gazes over at me. “Do you mean the cat?”

“Uh... Sorry.” Coming to stop, I look over at him and smile sheepishly. “Despite cats never really being given names on the farm, my grandmother, for some unknown reason, always used to name any black cat that put in an appearance, Charlie, and... uh... it must have slipped out.”

“Charlie,” Will repeats with both a shrug and a nod before bending down and gently picking up the cat. “Okay. Fine. I can live with Charlie...” Holding the cat, who it just has to be said looks supremely unbothered by having been picked up, carefully against his chest, he walks over to join me and, side by side, we start to head towards the door. “He... Charlie... He's actually been inside before,” he murmurs. “That night it was my turn to watch the surveillance footage while everyone else slept, I brought him in with me and he spent the entire night sleeping on my lap.”

“He did, did he...”

“Mmm... And unlike someone else he didn't lose the plot when he woke up and found that I was still there...”

“That's because he's got a better grasp of what's good for him than I clearly do,” I respond wryly as, walking in to the warehouse first, I spot the fruits of Jane and Benji's shopping expedition laid out on the table behind the sofa and mentally cross my fingers that somehow, against the odds, I've managed to do the right thing. “But...” Coming to a stop by the table, I take a step to the side and, as Will and his feline companion walk over to join me, gesture down at. “I... I know there's a good chance that it'll just strike you as... well... odd, but I've got something for you... Not so much to make amends, but to hopefully give you hope that I'm not entirely an asshole...”

“I've already told you that you're not a complete...” Trailing off as he spots the items spread out across the table for the first time, Will's eyes widen in what I really hope has more to do with shock than it does disbelief as, with a laugh, he gives me a bemused look. “You got me a... cat carrier?” he exclaims with another laugh. “Why... You... You shouldn't have!”

“Not just a cat carrier,” I reply, carefully lifting Charlie out of Will's arms and placing him in the – lined with a leopard print fake fur and quite frankly over the top, if you ask me – basket next to the carrier. “But also a... uh... very fancy bed,” I add as, giving every impression of being immediately taken with it, Charlie begins to both purr and knead the fur into submission, “and... a collar. Actually, no....” I shake my head and make a mental note to never let Jane and Benji loose with my money again as, seriously, there's simply no way one little cat needs five different collars. “Make that a choice of collars, and a couple of bowls, and food, and... Look! Even something that promises to cure him of both worms and fleas, should, of course, he have them.”

“I can see that,” Will murmurs as, still looking nothing if not bemused, he steps closer to the table and gazes down at all the feline paraphernalia spread over it. “You... You really thought of everything, didn't you...”

Shrugging, I pick up both my change and receipt from the edge of the table and, without looking at any of it, shove it all into my pocket. “Well, I certainly tried,” I reply. “And while, okay, you've probably already worked out that Jane and Benji kindly picked everything up for me, it... it really was all my idea.”

“It was... your idea to... kit out a stray cat?” Will queries dubiously as he reaches out his hand and starts to pet Charlie, who, it just has to be said, is already looking perfectly at home in his new basket. “That... You know what? I'm not even sure I know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything,” I respond, making no attempt to disguise the disappointment I'm now feeling from coming through loud and clear in my voice as, running my fingers through my hair, I take a couple of steps back from the table. “I decided to get these for you because I thought, given how much time you'd been spending with him, that you might like to take the cat back to D.C., that's all. I'm not saying that I expect you to keep him, but... I don't know. I just thought you could take him back to a shelter there, or perhaps even try to find a home for him yourself. But... Whatever. If you don't like it or just think that it's stupid...”

“I never said that I didn't like it,” Will interrupts, his forehead creasing in a frown, “and I certainly don't think it's stupid. Completely out of the blue, yeah, but definitely not stupid. In fact...” His expression brightening, he walks around the table and comes to a stop in front of me. “While I'm obviously not doing a very good job of it,” he continues, draping his arms over my shoulders, “I actually think it was both incredibly thoughtful and kind of you, and... And of course I'd like nothing more than to take Charlie home with me.”

“You... You don't have to, and... uh... you don't have to keep calling him Charlie if you don't want to either,” I reply as, slightly unnerved by both Will's sudden proximity and the way he's gazing at me, I struggle to know what to do with not only my arms but also how to react in general. “I... I just thought...”

“I want to, and, what's more, I like the name Charlie, and I like the story behind it, and I want to keep using it,” Will murmurs thickly, resting his forehead briefly against mine before pulling back and giving my cheek a quick kiss. “I also... like... you, Ethan Hunt. I don't think you do emotion very well, and I'm no more certain of things working out than you are, but what I do know is that I think you're worth a second chance. You didn't need to... bribe me... or suck up with cat toys, but the fact that you did shows me that you're far kinder than you give yourself credit for because, seriously, and you've got to believe me here, I could not have asked for a more thoughtful surprise. Charlie might only be... one... cat, and you mightn't even care if he lives or dies, but by going to the effort of wanting to see to it that he has a second chance, it... It really does convince me that you're worth one as well...” 

“I...” Sliding my arms around Will's waist, I gently hug him to me and, all the time ignoring that this is actually the first time we've ever just embraced, thank my lucky stars that my plan, desperate and somewhat harebrained though it may have been, appears to have worked. “I care that he continues to live because you care,” I whisper, “and I... I care about you. I haven't shown it, hell, I went out of my way to hide from it, but I do. I care about you a lot and while, like you said, it mightn't work, I really do want to try again. Actually... This time I just want to... try... period.”

Nodding, Will locks his hands together at the base of my neck and once again rests his forehead against mine. “Mmm... That makes two of us,” he murmurs, pulling me even closer and pressing our chests warmly together. “There's a lot, after all, that we haven't even... tried...”

“Like this, you mean?” Following Will's lead by locking my hands together behind his back, I settle my lips on his and give him a moistly passionate kiss. A kiss that's just... a kiss. Not a prelude of things to come or, as has been the case up until now, simply something to do while we tear each other's clothes off, but just a simple, possibly even innocent kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Will blinks bright eyes at me and smiles the most genuinely happy smile, the sort that takes years off him and makes you immediately want to promise the world to him solely in return for being able to see it again, I've seen stretch across his lips for weeks. “Mmm... So many things to both try... and perfect...”

“I don't know about you, but I think I could get used to it,” I respond, flashing Will a smile of my own before leaning forward and once again capturing his lips with mine.

Oh yeah...

I definitely think I could get used to it.

Get used to it, make the most of it, and never, ever, forget to put the effort into making sure it lasts.

~ End ~


End file.
